


My Generation

by Dani



Series: Everything Changes [2]
Category: The Beatles
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-27 23:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dani/pseuds/Dani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Linda conspires to get Julian to spend his birthday in London. This is a continuation of my 'Everything Changes' series.</p><p>Note:  These are completely made up fictional characters who have the names of real people.  They are not the real people and I am in no way claiming that any of these events in this story are true to life.  Completely fake, made up by me.  No insult intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Generation

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks Nikki!

Late March 1982.

            It was a gamble, Linda knew that before she had even picked up the phone.  Julian was so stubborn, so full of pride.  Based on what she heard from Maureen over the years, Zak wasn’t likely to be much better.  Even if, by some miracle, she could get Zak to agree, there was no guarantee she could convince Julian. 

            Looking around her pristine home, seeing all the work that he spent his days doing, Linda knew she had to at least try.  She owed it to him.

 

            It was another few days before she could even make contact.  Linda had to make all the calls at work which really limited how much headway she could make.  There was no real privacy at home though, and depending on who overheard the calls she was making, the resulting scene could have been absolutely disastrous.

            “Zak, I’m so glad I was able to catch you,” she said pleasantly, shifting the phone to her other ear as she sat down behind her desk. Plugging a finger into her free ear to drown out the sounds of the restaurant, she continued.  “I’ve been trying to reach you for a few days now.”

            Zak let out a small huff, but kept his voice neutral.  “Yeah, I….um….I got some of your messages.  Mum said you wanted to talk or something.” His words were awkward, but then, he hadn’t actually talked to her since he was a child. 

            Making a mental note to thank Maureen profusely, Linda considered how to best begin this conversation.  “Are you high?”  Okay, probably not the best opening, but he wasn’t exactly being eloquent and it was important to know if he was going to remember it later.

            “No, of course not.”  He said, though a little too quickly for her liking.

            “Drunk?” Linda could sense the annoyance over the phone, and cringed at having gone too far.

            “Well, this has been fun.” Zak’s voice made it very clear that it had been anything but.  “But I’ve got to—”

            “No wait!” Linda said desperately, unconsciously leaning forward as though to re-establish the connection with him.  “That’s not why I’m calling….and really Zak, I’m hardly one to lecture you, regardless. You know that.” She made the comment teasing, trying let a little of the ‘Fun Aunt Linda’ warmth slip through.

            “All right,” Zak said after a moment’s hesitation.  “I’m listening.” But his tone was reserved, guarded.

            Finally, Linda just decided to lay it out and let him react as he would. Beating around the bush wasn’t helping anything after all.  “Jules’ birthday is this week, and I was wondering if he could come visit you in London for it.”

            There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

            “Zak?” Linda ventured cautiously, hoping to spur some kind of reaction out of the boy.

            Laughter filled the emptiness so suddenly that Linda literally jumped an inch or so off her seat.

            “This is a joke right?”  Zak asked lightly, between fits of laughter.  “It’s April Fools and you’re playing a trick.  I’m amazed you went to so much effort, really.”

            Eyes flashing quickly to the calendar, Linda let out an annoyed breath.  “No, it’s not a joke, it’s just a coincidence.  If I’d actually managed to reach you the other times I called, we wouldn’t be talking on April Fool’s Day, would we?”

            Silence descended once again as Zak absorbed what she was telling him.  “So, what?  You’re trying to organize a play date?  His voice had taken on a condescending lilt.  “You know we haven’t actually seen each other since we were like 5, right? I mean, doesn’t he have any of his own friends?”  He finished with a snort.

            “Of course he has friends,” Linda sighed, doodling a small flower on a post-it note.

            “So why are you sending him to me?” Zak asked quickly, almost absent-mindedly.  It was as though something else was drawing his attention.

            “He hasn’t really had much contact with his friends lately…He mainly spends his time with James.”  Linda admittedly grudgingly, making the flower darker.

            Zak huffed a laugh.  “So he doesn’t have friends?”  He asked again jokingly, though at least his attention was back on the conversation

            “He does—” Linda paused and took a breath.  It really wasn’t helping anything to argue the point.  “Look, we normally have a big dinner for him and then he spends a few days at his mom’s house, but his mom is out of the country this year and I think it would really do him some good to spend time with someone his own age—”

            “I’m three years younger than him,” Zak interrupted her quickly, as though reminding her of that fact would make this whole problem go away. 

            “Two and a half at best, and it’s rude to interrupt someone mid-sentence,” she fired back a little smugly.  “Anyway, ever since Heather left for school Jules has been alone with only me and the kids for company and I don’t think it’s good for him.  Please Zak?  It would mean a lot to him.”

            “And what exactly do you expect me to do with him?”  He sounded almost pained by the idea, and his voice was becoming a little more rushed, as though he needed to go.

            Aborting a shrug, Linda answered.  “I don’t know, show him a good time.  Bring him to whatever you do for fun.  He hasn’t really had a chance to act his age in a very long while.”

            There was an edge of franticness on the other end.  A bit too much movement, and he was pulling further away.  “This weekend?”  He asked in defeat.

            Barely managing to contain a victory squeal, Linda happily confirmed.  “Yep, he’ll be arriving on the noon train, you’ll be there to pick him up?”

            “Yeah, that’s fine,” He grumbled quickly.  Linda could hear keys jingling in the background.  “Look, I gotta—’

            “Go,” Linda finished for him.  “I figured.  You take care!” she chirped happily.

            “Yeah, bye.” He hung up.

            Hanging up the phone with a sigh, Linda looked at her nearly unrecognizable flower blob on the post-it.  Well, at least she got him to agree….now the only problem was getting Julian to agree and praying that both of them would follow through.

            That thought gave her pause, and Linda quickly jotted down a reminder next to the flower-blob to arrange Heather as a back-up….just in case. 

 

            It took another day or so before she could talk to Julian about it.  It had to be timed perfectly.  The girls had to be at school, since Stella would likely take this as permission to gloat loudly and proudly that her mother was kicking Julian out of the house, false though that may be.  It also had to be done when James was down for his nap, because he would likely burst into tears and Julian would never agree to go. 

            To manage that, though, she had to take the afternoon off work, which is a lot harder for the boss to do than one would think.  It’s not like she could just call in another worker to cover her, she actually had to convince one of her managers to do it.  Not the easiest thing in the world.

            Finally, she was slipping her key into the door and making her way into the house.

            “Julian, I came home early, hope you don’t mind,” She called softly, hoping Julian would be able to hear her without actually waking James from his nap.

            Quick footsteps in the upstairs hallway let her know that he had heard, so she made her way upstairs. 

            Julian was waiting in the hallway for her with an armful of toys.  “I’m sorry, I’m not done cleaning up from playtime yet.  I wasn’t really expecting you for a while still.”

            Smiling, Linda looked at him – really looked at him like she hadn’t for a very long time.  He was standing a bit taller, but otherwise hadn’t really changed much in the two years he’d been with them.  The real difference was in how he carried himself now.  It was like he was far more comfortable in his own skin, far more confident about who he was.  It was good to see. 

            “It’s alright, I just had a chance to come home early and thought I should take it since it doesn’t come up often.”  She took some of the toys out of his arms and led the way to the toy box.  “You really should let Jamie clean up playtime, he won’t learn if you don’t.”

            Jules rolled his eyes.  “He cleaned up some of it, but he was falling asleep on the floor and so I let it go today.”

            Another sign of how much he’d grown.  A year ago, even that small criticism would have crushed him.  Linda took a deep breath and started, more convinced than ever that this was the right thing to do.  “So Zak was hoping that you would come down to London to spend your birthday with him.  Isn’t that a great idea?”  She asked, depositing her toys in the box.

            Taking his turn to drop his armful into the already full box, Julian asked absentmindedly.  “Zak who?”

            Looking at him sharply to see if he was joking, Linda answered when it was clear that he truly had no idea who she was talking about.  “Zak Starkey.”

            Eyebrows shooting up under his fringe, Julian looked around the familiar room as though trying to get his bearings.  “Uh….no,” he finally answered, closing the lid and walking away.

            “Aww, come on, why not?”  She followed him out of the room, refusing to let him escape so easily.

            Abandoning whatever destination he had originally intended, Julian turned and stared at her, cross-armed, in the hallway.  “Because I don’t know Zak; why on earth would I want to spend my birthday with him?”  He said it very reasonably, despite the fact that he was radiating annoyance.

            “You know Zak!”  Linda insisted with a smile.  “You two used to play together when you were little,” she finished with a coo.

            Rolling his eyes again, Julian turned and leaned on the railing overlooking the downstairs.  “He was a baby when I was little, and me passing along a few hand-me-downs hardly constitutes a solid relationship.  Look, I know you’re bothered by the fact that I won’t be seeing my mum this year, but it’s fine.  I am quite happy to spend my birthday with you guys.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some laundry to do.” He purposely walked around her, picking up an empty laundry basket on his way by.

            “You know, this is your problem, right here,” Linda insisted, following him.

            “What?  Doing laundry?”  Emptying Stella’s laundry bag into the hamper, he moved around her again.

            “You’re too old for your age!”  Linda gestured around.  “You are turning 19!  You should be out partying with people of like age.  You should be making mistakes, using bad judgement, and getting yourself into unsafe situations.  You should not be at home ironing the girls’ dresses for school.”  She finished with a nod to the hamper.   

            Pausing a moment to look back at Linda, Julian shifted the hamper to his other arm.  “Somehow, you aren’t making the prospect appealing.” He continued walking.  “And I only ironed the dresses that one time.”

            “Jules, you’re turning 19 but you’re acting as though you’re in your 50s.  One day you’re going to actually _be_ old and you’re going to look back and regret the fact that you spent the best years of your life laundering my children’s clothes.”

            Dropping the hamper with a loud smack, Julian’s face pinched.  “Fine. You wash the clothes.  I’ll go get dinner started.”  He tried to move past her towards the stairs.

            Linda stood her ground.  “Jules, it’s not that I don’t appreciate all you’ve done for us: I do! But I can’t stand the thought that you’ve spent so much time and effort taking care of us that you aren’t enjoying your own life.”  She reached her hands out to take his.  “After all you’ve done for us, you deserve to enjoy yourself.  You’ve earned it.”

            Julian’s faced relaxed slightly, softening into something a bit less defensive.  “I like it here. I enjoy it.”

            Linda waited until he looked her in the eye.  “I know you do, and we enjoy having you.  But honey, you’re hiding here.  You need to get out and experience life.  You need to get away from the kids and responsibilities for a little while.”

            Julian was searching her face. For what, she didn’t know.  After another moment, he looked away, dropping her hands.  “All right, I’ll go. But just for the weekend.”  He conceded.

            “Wonderful!”  She threw her arms around him for a hug.  “You’re going to have so much fun.  Zak is so excited to be able to see you!”

            Julian picked up the laundry hamper and made his way unhindered down the stairs.  “Somehow, I doubt that.” He didn’t even look at her.

            Going down the stairs in his wake, Linda continued as though he hadn’t said anything at all.  “And Ritchie will be really excited that you and Zak are going to spend time together.  It always broke his heart that you weren’t closer.”

            Julian mulled that statement over for a moment.  “That one I might actually believe.”  He moved towards the basement stairs. 

            “And—”

            Julian turned so quickly that Linda actually bumped into him.  “I said I would go, you don’t have to keep trying to convince me.”

            “Sorry,” Linda said meekly, though the mischievous twinkle gave her away.  “I just had so many arguments all set to go and I didn’t get a chance to use them.” 

            Chuckling, Julian shifted the basket again.  “Be that as it may, I have a lot of work left to do…particularly since I’m not going to have the weekend to do it.  So why don’t you do something useful with yourself and start dinner while I finish the laundry?”

            Linda backed off, clearly moving towards the kitchen. 

            Turning, Julian began to make his way down the stairs.

            “I don’t know what to make,”  Linda called down after him.

            “You own a fucking restaurant. Think of something,” was yelled up the stairwell.

            With a grin, Linda moved into the kitchen. 

 

            Julian hated trains.  He hated trains almost as much as he hated planes.  It wasn’t quite as much, simply because on trains you can move to a different compartment to get away from the screaming children and obnoxious passengers.  He still hated it though.  He hated having people he didn’t know crowding around him.  They were loud, they oftentimes smelled, and if they caught a good look at his face, usually they would stare.  Julian hated the staring most of all.  He hated the fact that people could look at him and see his father.

            Pulling his had a bit lower over his face, Julian counted the stops.  He just had to get to London, get through this weekend, and then he could go back home.

            The train squealed as it pulled into the next station, a herd of passengers pushed their way through the door, shifting to find room for everyone.  Julian couldn’t help but be reminded of sheep. 

            He let out a deep breath which turned into a sigh when he noticed a person in the corner starring with his head cocked slightly to the side.  It was the look on his face: the puzzled ‘I think I’ve met you before but I can’t place where’ look.  He hated that look.  At least the ones who recognized him generally just stared and kept their distance.  The ones who couldn’t place him would often come over and talk. 

            When he noticed the man shift, as though getting ready to stand, Julian pulled a walkman out of his bag and put the headphones over his ears.  He rested his head against the window and closed his eyes, as though listening intently to the music.  The man, fortunately, left him alone.  The walkman was empty; he didn’t even bother to pack any tapes.

 

            Stubbing out his cigarette on the nearest bench, Zak looked at the clock again.  The train was fucking late.

            When Zak asked his mum how on earth he was supposed to recognize Julian, his mom gushed – she actually _gushed_ – about how he looked just like John.  Zak wouldn’t miss him because he was the spitting image of his father. 

            Zak scoffed internally at the thought.  People said Zak looked just like Ringo too, and that didn’t count for much either. 

            Another gust of wind blew through the station, chilling him to the bones.  Once again, Zak found himself cursing his birthday.  If he had just been born a few years later, he wouldn’t even be here, but no; he had to be the second-born Beatles child, the oldest next to Julian.  Even two years would have been enough to lump him down with the second generation of beatles children - With his brother and sister, with Mary and Stella – the ones who had been born at the end of the era.  Instead, he was rounded up, and was lumped in with Julian. So, here he was.

            As he waited, despite his best attempts, Zak found his mind wandering to the mysterious Julian – The boy that his father and his uncles had always tripped over themselves to accommodate, the one that was whispered about in dark corners, and worried about late into the night.  Well, fuck him; he wasn’t the only one with a screwed up family, and no one had ever written a Number One pop ballad to cheer Zak up over his parents’ divorce. 

            What kind of person is so low on friends that they needed their Auntie to scrounge up someone to take them out for their birthday anyway?  It was absolutely ridiculous. 

            Looking at the clock, Zak seriously considered just leaving.  Julian could make his own fucking fun for a weekend.  It wasn’t like Zak was going to abandon him in some kind of foreign country, it was London for fuck’s sake.

            With a flop, he slunk down onto the bench conceding defeat. Despite it all, he wasn’t going to leave.  His mother would never let him hear the end of it, for one; and for another, Zak would once again be branded the bad one.  The one you had to confirm wasn’t on drugs before you even talked to him.  He would be the evil person who abandoned poor precious Julian in big scary London.

            Zak snorted at the image before lighting another cigarette, hoping to keep out some chill in the concrete jail they called a station.

 

            Finally, the train pulled in.  Julian had been so intent on pretending to be lost in thought, he actually nearly missed it.

            In a rush, he threw his walkman back into his pack, shouldered the bag, and barely made it through the door before it slid closed behind him.

            The station was chilly: not nearly as cold as home, but Julian nonetheless regretted not packing another sweater.  The wind tore through his jacket and bristled against his skin, making him shiver.

            He looked around casually, hoping to spot Zak somewhere without looking too much like a desperate tourist.  His memories of their last meeting were spotty at best; the most he could recall was that Zak didn’t smile much.  He’d been a very serious child.  Really, the only thing Julian had to go on was Linda’s description, which essentially consisted of ‘Oh, he looks so much like Ringo, you can’t miss him’.  Julian rolled his eyes.

 

            Surprisingly, Zak did recognize him.  Zak recognized Julian the moment he saw him.  It hit him like a ton of bricks or a kick in the stomach.  Not because of any resemblance to John, though he could see why people would make the association, but rather because Julian’s stance was so similar to his own.  Julian was hunched, watching everyone around him.  He held his bag tightly on his shoulder as though afraid someone would snatch it at a moment’s notice – a keepsake to brag about to their friends.

            Beatlemania may have been long over, but it certainly left a mark on those who had to suffer through it.  With a start, Zak realized that he and Julian were probably the only two of the kids who had any memory of it at all.  They were the only two who had to deal with fans who would literally steal bags off your back or toys out of your hand just because you were somehow connected to these godlike figures. 

            Zak snorted, wondering how many fans were crushed with disappointment when confronted with the reality of their gods. 

            Shaking out his shoulders and loosening his grip on his own bag, Zak consciously reminded himself that it was a different world now and nobody gave a shit who he was anymore.  Plastering some sort of smile on his face, Zak approached his….friend? relative?  He didn’t really know.

            “Julian,” he stated casually, putting a hand out in greeting.

            Julian blinked at him, taking in his face and then lowered his gaze toward to offered hand.  “Zak,” he answered back with equal blandness, taking the hand and giving it a quick shake before releasing it just as quickly.

            Zak stared at the boy in front of him, really taking him in.

            Julian looked scrawny, Zak noted feeling a bit of distaste at the thought.  He wasn’t sure that he was expecting but he wasn’t expecting this.  Julian was small, about the same height as Zak himself and looked far younger than his actual age.

            Against his better judgement, Zak felt his resentment start to trickle away.  Who could really hate someone who stepped off the train looking like a lost puppy?

            “Will you stop staring?” Julian snapped suddenly, pulling Zak out of his thoughts.  “I get enough of that shit from the rest of the world, I don’t need it from you, too.”

            Zak’s eyes narrowed.  If he was a dog, his heckles would be raised and he’d be growling right now. “Sorry,” he shrugged with feigned indifference. “It’s just that Linda was right, you do look just like your father.” It shouldn’t have been so satisfying to see the other boy flinch.

            His face twisting into a scowl, Julian answered back.  “You’re hardly in a position to talk, what with a nose like yours.”

            Making a show of being unbothered, Zak chuckled softly though it sounded hollow even to his own ears.  “Whatever.”

            They stood awkwardly, neither saying a word.  What was there to say?  They didn’t know each other and there was truly nothing between them except old loyalties that they had no part in. 

 

            Julian regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth.  He didn’t mean to say them.  It’s just that he hated trains, and crowds, and being stared at – but what he really hated was being compared to his father.  The words slipped out before he’d even thought about it.  Something his father was often guilty of, which made Julian feel even worse.  His mother had raised him better than this. He shouldn’t be taking after a man who was absent most of his life anyway.

            Zak chuckled, but it was an empty laugh.  It was a laugh reserved for ridicule: the one used to show that an insult had no effect, and to cling to the idea that people were laughing with you and not at you.  It was something that Julian used well and often, and something that made Julian hate himself even more for bringing it about.

            “Look, I’m sorry,” Julian stated, pushing all his anger and self-loathing aside for the moment.  “Public transit leaves me ill-tempered at the best of times. I really didn’t mean to snap at you.”

            Zak looked at him curiously, as though he were some kind of puzzle that needed to be assembled and solved.  “…It’s all right,” he answered slowly, as though tasting the words as they drifted past his tongue. 

            Despite his mood, Julian tried to relax his posture.  His stance became more casual and his arms looser.  He forced a smile onto his face.  “Let’s try this again.  Hello, I’m Julian.”  He said it in a drawl, a trace of mischief in his smile, as he confidently put out his hand to greet the younger boy again.

            Eyeing the hand suspiciously, this time it was Zak who shook it once and then dropped out as though burned. “Let’s go,” he said crossly, before turning quickly and walking away.  He obviously expected Julian to follow.  Not seeing any alternative, Julian obliged him.

 

            Zak could feel the disgust running through his veins.  If there was one thing he hated, it was a liar.

            Julian was not charming.  He was not confident, but he was very good at pretending to be.  If he had just done that right from the beginning, Zak probably wouldn’t have even noticed the difference.  He hadn’t though.  Julian had walked off the train his natural disgruntled self and Zak had to watch as he actively put on this fake personality, one layer at a time.  Loosening the shoulders, stand up straighter, take up more room, look totally at ease in your surroundings, slap on a smile and pretend you wouldn’t rather be anywhere but here – honestly, it was disgusting and it made Zak sick.

            Truthfully, he would rather deal with the asshole who insulted his looks because at least that was fucking honest.

            “So, where are we going?”  Julian asked, the same silky confidence coating every word.

            Zak grimaced.  “We’re going to mine.”

            “Oh, where’s that?” His tone screamed polite interest, though Zak could tell he didn’t really give a damn.

            “You’ll see when we get there, now won’t you?”  His answer was clipped and he quickened his pace.

            “I suppose,” Julian seemed to almost sigh.

            Zak really hopped Julian would just stop talking, because the smug tone was making Zak want to hit something, and he really didn't want to have to explain breaking Julian's nose on his birthday. 




 

            Julian gritted his teeth as he followed Zak through another alleyway.  The kid just kept speeding up, it was annoying as hell.  Where did he get off being in such a shit mood anyway?  Julian was being fucking nice.  Normally, he reserves this kind of behaviour for people he needs something from; Zak should be honoured that Julian isn’t forcing him to endure his normal behaviour.

            They make another turn and Zak is finally unlocking a door.  They have to go up three flights of stairs.  Honestly, the kid is the son of a Beatle, why the fuck is he living in a building without an elevator?

            “Oh, by the way,” Zak muttered, throwing open the door to his flat. “Happy Birthday.”

            “Heather?!”

 

            Zak nearly had a heart attack after Julian shouted pretty much right in his ear.

            It was bizarre to see.  All the carefully constructed layers melted away in an instant and Julian was back to being the scrawny boy who looked far too young.  It made Zak smile just a bit.

            “About time you guys got here. I’ve been waiting for ages,”  Heather said with a laugh, throwing an arm around both of them and pulling them in for a hug.

            Landing a quick peck on Heather’s cheek, Zak returned the embrace.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Julian do the same.

            “The pizza is a bit cold, but if we put it in the oven for a little while it should be good.”  She let them go and ventured into the back of the apartment.

            “Uh, Heather,” Zak called awkwardly, visualizing the state of the oven.  “I’m not sure we really should be using the oven….I don’t think it’s ever been cleaned. Ever.”

            Heather popped her head back into the room, bright smile still on her face.  “It has now.  What did you think I was doing while you boys dawdled?  Played records and ate sweets?”

            Zak felt his cheeks warm but he decided to let it go. 

 

            Zak got a call halfway through the meal: one that he answered and then immediately shut himself out on the balcony to take.

            Reaching over, Julian wiped a bit of sauce off of Heather’s cheek.  “I thought you were too busy to see me this week,” He said fondly.

            Following up his hand with a bit of grooming of her own, Heather looked at him pointedly.  “I said I was too busy to come home for the weekend and spend the entire thing with you.  I do have exams, after all.”  Her expression softened into a matching look of fondness. “But I figured I could squeeze you in for an afternoon.  It is your birthday.”

            Julian pouted.  “Just an afternoon?”

            Rolling her eyes, Heather took another slice.  “Yes. I have work to do.  Besides, Zak is the one hosting you, not me.”

            “Yeah, why is that, anyway?”  He asked, also taking another slice.  “Why couldn’t I just stay at yours?”

            Heather laughed in disbelief, nearly choking on her pizza.  “Yeah, I’m sure that would have gone over swimmingly.  ‘Yes, headmistress, I know it goes against all the rules but you must let Jules stay in the dormitory.  It’s not like he’s a real boy after all, he’s just my best friend.’  Yes, I’ll be sure to try that and tell you how it goes.”

            Jules laid back on the ground while she was speaking and laughed silently at her.  “What?  You don’t think it would work?”

            Heather just rolled her eyes.  “You’re ridiculous.”

            “Thanks,” he answered with a smile.

 

            Heather kissed both their cheeks on her way out.  Giving Julian an extra long hug, she wished him a happy birthday and insisted he have fun while in town.  Then she was gone, and just like that the awkward tension was back between Julian and Zak.

            “So, how do you know Heather?”  Julian asked, groping for something to talk about.

            Zak just stared at him for a moment in complete bafflement. Finally he spoke. “What do you mean?”

            Blinking, Julian repeated.  “How do you know Heather?”  There really wasn’t any other way to ask that. 

            Zak nearly burst out laughing.  It was only the serious look on Julian’s face that kept him from doing just that.  “Oh, I don’t know, every major family gathering during the entirety of my childhood?”  Zak chuckled softly.  “Honestly, I think she kind of sees herself as my ersatz older sister, and now that she’s in London I can’t actually escape her.  It was definitely a shock when I opened my door the first time to see her there…and she hasn’t really gone away since.  It gives her something to do, I think.”

            Julian felt his spirit fall during that explanation, though he tried not to show it.  “So you guys were fairly close?”  He couldn’t quite keep the sadness from his voice.

            With a start, Zak suddenly seemed to realize where this was going.  A queasy look passed over his face.  “Yeah, I guess,” he said evasively, eyes darting around the room.

            Julian looked out the window, taking in the beauty of the city.  “Did you get together often?”  He kept his voice carefully neutral this time.

            Zak hesitated for far too long, telling Julian everything he needed to know without saying anything at all.

            “Who all was there?”  Julian continued, despite Zak’s silence.

            Zak started picking apart on the of the paper cups they had used for drinks.  “Everyone,” he muttered quietly, not meeting Julian’s eye. “I mean, I didn’t really go to them all that much after the divorce…but, well, everyone went.”  Finally, Zak looked up. “Everyone but…”

            “Me.” Julian couldn’t help but feel defeated at that, rejected once again.

            “Yeah,” Zak conceded, letting that rest in the air for a few moments.  “Well, everyone but you and Sean…and John, I guess, and Yoko.” 

            Without knowing why, Julian could feel his lips start to quirk upward.  Before he knew it, he was smiling.  “Well, sounds like I missed some fun times.”

            Zak snorted.  “I’m not sure I would really classify them as fun….”  He cast a mischievous look in Julian’s direction.  “Speaking of fun, wanna go to a party?”

            “What sort of party?” 

            Zak grinned.  “The kind our parents warn us about.”

            Julian's first instinct was to say no.  He didn't go to those types of parties anymore, he was too responsible now.  He was a role-model, he had responsibilities, he couldn't possibly.  After a moment though, he realized that this was why he was here.  Linda wanted him to have fun, to act his age.  A look of pure mischief slowly crept onto Julian's face as it occuerd to him that he could really do as he pleased and damn the consequences.  "Sure!  I mean, what the fuck, you only love once, right?"




            “Damn straight!” Zak agreed quickly, before hurrying to his room to grab them both something to wear.

 

            Julian had absolutely no idea what he was on, but the lights were becoming part of him.  The world was swirling pleasantly around him, and he could swear that he saw a living neon stick figure walking about.  The beat of the music was overpowering him, leaving him feeling like he wasn’t even alive anymore, he was just one with the sound.

            A voice invaded his thoughts. “Jules.”

            Julian opened his eyes, and there was Zak, and Zak looked beautiful, with splashes of colour staining his face.  “Hi,” he said dreamily before closing his eyes again.

            The music was his soul. It was his mother and his father, it was his future and his past.

            A voice invaded his thoughts. “Jules.”

            Julian opened his eyes, and there was Zak, and Zak looked beautiful, with splashes of colour staining his face.  “Hi,” he said dreamily before closing his eyes again.

            "Oh, no you don't.  Not again." Zak gently slapped his face a few times, forcing Julian to open his eyes again.  "Here, mate, take this.  You need an upper very, very badly."




            Julian couldn’t be bothered with moving from his place on the floor.  The cement was cold against the heat of his back, and if he focused on it, he became the floor, and he realized that he could be happy as floor.  Sure people would walk all over him, but that’s not unusual, and floors are useful. They have a use, with which they can be full.  You know? 

            Zak laughed above him, and Julian could see the laugh join the other colours of sound in a swirling whirlwind over head.  “All right, you wanker, open your mouth.”

            So Julian did, as he’d done all night.  He opened his mouth and Zak put something in it; something for him to swallow.  Zak’s fingers tasted good. They tasted good, like fingers should. Julian snickered: that rhymed. 

            “Think you can sit up?”  Zak asked, taking his hand to try and help him up.

            Julian laughed and pulled with all his might, making Zak topple over, and then they were both laying on the floor, They were both floor now.  Julian held onto Zak’s hand, because if he didn’t, he would lose him again.  Once his eyes were closed, Zak would stop existing, and Julian liked having him exist.  It was good, like being floor was good.  It was simple good.

            Zak’s head had come to rest right by Julian’s, their bodies jutting out in different directions.  “You know, you’re lucky we’re out of the way, otherwise we’d be liable to get trampled.”

            “That’s okay, we’re floor. It’s what we do,” Julian slurred, and then frowned at his tone. When he talks in his head it’s so much clearer than that.

            “Oh we are, are we?”  Julian felt warmed by the amusement in Zak’s voice, as though the whole world was magic.  “Think we could maybe stop being floor and become wall instead?”

            Julian frowned. Who would want to be wall?  Walls were set up and then ignored, and when they were noticed it was to hammer nails and tacks into them.  Shaking his head frantically, Julian pushed his palm into the cold cement, giving himself comfort, because he was floor. 

            “All right, we won’t be wall then.” Zak’s head seemed to be moving, his hair was tickling Julian’s ear.  It was soft, like feathers; baby bird feathers. Maybe Zak was a baby bird.  That would explain _so_ much.  Baby birds would probably rather be wall.  “How about window?”

            Julian tore his eyes from the ceiling, where the swirling lights had become a magnificent flock of birds, and turned to look at Zak instead. That was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. 

            Noting his look, Zak shrugged.  “All right, not window then.”

            Julian let his head fall back to its original position, he felt his bones melt away and he became flat again, looking up at where the light swirled within the rafters.  It was so beautiful. 

            A rustle of movement happened beside him, sending small rings outward, like a rock falling into a pond, and then the feathers at his ear were gone.

            Frantically, Julian gripped the hand still in his own.  “Don’t go! You’re still a baby bird! You’ll fall!”  He shouted, refusing to release Zak’s hand.  In his mind’s eye, Julian could see it, all the baby birds that had tried to fly too early and ended up dead on the street.  He couldn’t let Zak do it.

            Zak’s laughter filled the air again, washing over him.  “Ah, mate, as soon as I find a paper and pen, I am writing all this shit down.” But he wasn’t pulling away, so it was good.  Finally Zak settled in beside him once again.  “Okay. We’ll stay here until the upper kicks in.”

            Smiling, Julian closed his eyes again.  Slowly he felt the music fill his veins.  Even with his eyes closed, he could see the colours as the swooped down and rushed through him, leaving an indelible mark behind.  He was the music, just like he was the floor.  Only this time, he wasn’t alone. Zak was right there with him. 

 

            When Julian woke up, it was to a throbbing headache, a feeling like he was going to vomit imminently, and his arms wrapped around Zak’s smaller frame. 

            Zak was still asleep, a hand curled around Julian’s neck, the other tucked under the pillow.  A small puddle of drool had formed under his cheek, and for some reason, in his after-drug-addled haze, Julian seemed to find it almost endearing. 

            As he became more aware, Julian noticed that his left hand had gone numb were it was pinned between Zak’s side and the mattress.  He tried to pry it out, but that just made Zak shift closer.

            Without meaning to, Zak lowered his arm to encircle Julian’s back and started cuddling him like a giant teddy bear.

            All of a sudden it occurred to Julian to wonder what the hell happened last night.  He remembered a bar, and then another bar.  There was a lot of drugs and then colours, but Julian couldn’t remember what happened next or how they got back to Zak’s flat.  Thankfully, they were both still fully clothed in what they wore clubbing, so Julian didn’t have that to worry about, but the rest was highly disconcerting. 

            “Zak, wake up,” Julian shook Zak’s shoulder with his free hand. 

            Zak opened his eyes and starred at him, completely annoyed at having been woken up.

            “Uh. It’s morning,” Julian said sheepishly, tugging at his trapped hand in order to give him a hint.

            Without saying a word, Zak rolled over and picked up the clock from the bedside table.  He squinted at it, struggling to read the little red numbers.  When they finally made sense, he groaned in disbelief and dropped the clock to the floor.

            Taking advantage of the opportunity, Julian shifted his hand under his pillow, and just barely managed to avoid Zak rolling back onto it.

            “Jules, it is seven in the fucking morning,” he growled, only inches from Julian’s face.  “I get that you spend a lot of time with children and that they are morning people by definition, but I swear to God, if you wake up before noon again, I will fucking kill you and drop your body in the Thames.” At Julian’s nod, Zak threw an arm around him again and burrowed his head somewhere between Julian’s shoulder and the pillow.

            “Wait. Why are we snuggling?” Julian asked quickly, feeling his personal space being completely violated.

            Zak lifted his head and squinted at him, as though he couldn’t quite believe that Julian was still talking. “You’re the one who said that if a man wants to spoon his mate in the wee hours of the morning, that’s his right.”

            Julian blinked.  Well, the sentence itself seemed familiar, so it might be true....just highly out of character for him.

            “Stop thinking and go to sleep,” Zak grumbled again, burying his face to shield it from morning light.

            With a shrug, Julian followed suit.    




 

            “I don’t really do drugs often,” Julian said from his place at the kitchen table, his half-eaten toast sitting abandoned in from of him. 

            Looking up from his own food, Zak couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his face.  “No shit?” He put down his toast and brushed a few crumbs off his lips.  “You thought you were the fucking floor, it was the funniest thing I’ve seen in my life.”

              “I did not,” Julian denied indignantly.

            “Yes, yes you did.”  A casual condescension laced Zak’s words. 

            “Why on earth would I think I was the floor?”  Julian just couldn’t wrap his mind around it, it made absolutely no sense.

            “Probably because you were lying on the floor,” Zak offered with a grin and a shrug.  “You also called me a baby bird.”

            “Fuck off, now I know you’re lying” Julian ate another bite of toast, hoping his stomach would stop spinning eventually.

            “Believe what you will, but I’ll always have the memories...and a mental note to bring a video camera next time.” His grin had grown cheeky and Julian began to wonder when he had begun to classify Zak’s grins. 

            “Whatever,” he muttered as he looked away, cursing his pale skin for how easily it turned red at the slightest provocation.

            Zak finished his toast and gulped down an entire glass of orange juice without taking a breath.  Then he adopted a serious expression.  “So, so far we’ve gotten you drugged out of your mind and brought you to what is probably the seediest party in London.  Off to a good start, I’d say, but the weekend isn’t over and we’ve got a lot of time to fill.”

            “Okay,” Julian agreed when he noticed that Zak seemed to be expecting an answer.

            “Now I have a little something that we can do for the afternoon, but before we can go, I have one question for you. Do you play?”

            “Do I play what?”

            “Music. Instruments. I don’t know: guitar, bass, trombone, I don’t really give a shit, but do you play something?”

            Julian bit his lip.  “I’ve been known to play a little guitar and drums. Occasionally.” He didn’t want to mention that he hadn’t touched either in years. 

            “Eh, good enough.” 

 

            Julian couldn’t believe it when Zak told the cab driver to bring them to Abbey Road studio.  A look of disgust crossed his face.  “What? Are we going to stand on the crosswalk for a picture?” He sneered.

            Zak just laughed at him, a wide open laughter that Julian had been seeing so much more of lately.  Looking Julian up and down, Zak smirked, his eyes twinkling.  “Well, maybe if you were dressed in white.”

            Julian cuffed him in the shoulder.  “Fuck off,” he muttered, feeling his cheeks warm. 

            Zak chuckled some more but then thankfully changed the subject. “Nah, we’re actually going to the studio and regardless of appearances, it has absolutely nothing to do with our names.” 

            Julian nodded for him to continue.

            “Well maybe not absolutely nothing to do with our names, it has a bit to do with our names.” Zak smirked at Julian’s expression, but refused to say more. 

            “Zak?” Julian prompted in a serious tone. 

            The smirk turning into a full smile, Zak finally answered. “George is recording here today; I thought we might sit in.”

            “Really?” Julian couldn’t quite believe it. “That’s brilliant!”

 

            George was watching the clock in the recording studio.  For the first time in his entire recording life, he was actually watching the clock. Staring at it, really.  Also for the first time, he was planning on leaving as soon as the clock struck five.  It just wasn’t worth it, otherwise.  If he wasn’t contractually bound to produce one more album, he wouldn’t have even bothered to be here at all.

            “Uh, Mr. Harrison?”  A small mousy intern interrupted, looking as though she was about to get eaten at any moment.

            “Yes?”  George asked, feeling completely numb.  Even the strings under his fingers couldn’t bring life back into him. 

            “You have visitors,” She whispered again, backing up a step.

            George rolled his eyes, thinking of the last time he had surprise visitors at Abbey road.  ‘ _And this time Mal won’t be here to tackle them’_ he thought to himself, a small ache filling his heart.  “I’m sure someone must have informed you about my policy about visitors, Miss…?”

            The girl coughed a bit, pushing some of the blond hair out of her face.  “Shye, Mr. Harrison.  Aleda Shye.”

            Putting down his guitar, George stood and approached the girl.  “Well, Miss Shye.  I don’t like visitors when I’m working unless I know them personally, and I’ve found that people I know personally usually let me know in advance that they are coming.”

            The girl winced, backing away again and quickly pushing her oversized glasses up to rest properly on the bridge of her nose.  “They say they know you, sir,” she said meekly, staring down towards the spot where the wall met the floor.

            “Truthfully, Miss Shye, most people do know me.  The question is whether I know them.” George knew he was being condescending but he was just tired of all this bullshit.  The reason he came to Abbey Road was because he thought he might stand a chance at being left alone. 

            “Ah, George, stop scaring the poor girl,” A voice he would recognize anywhere called over the sound system.

            “Yeah, what’d she ever do to you?”  Said another voice, equally familiar but strange to hear paired with the first.

            “Quite full of himself, isn’t he? Thinking anyone who doesn’t personally know him would go through the effort to come see him,” the first one piped up again, the two clearly sharing the same microphone given that he could hear laughter behind the words.

            “It’s that Beatles ego. They’re all cursed with it, I’ve heard.  Can’t be helped, my boy, can’t be helped.”

            George pulled over the nearest live microphone. “All right, you two. You’ve had your fun, now get down here. I want to get a look at you.” He hadn’t grinned this much in a long time.  When he turned to apologize to the intern, she had already slipped away. 

 

            It was well past five, and George had no intention of leaving any time soon.  Julian was tapping out a beat on the drums while Zak sang poorly into the microphone, but it was the most fun George had had in a long time.

            “…While my guitar gently WEE-EEE-EEEEPS!!!”  The lyrics were overdramatized to the extreme, and the end of the song was cut off because Julian was laughing so hard that he couldn’t even keep a steady rhythm any longer.  Still though, George kind of hoped that someone up in the sound booth was recording this.  Not that he’d actually say anything; nothing would shut those two down faster than knowing that what they were doing was being recorded for posterity.

            “All right, how about we each take instruments that we actually play, and we’ll let Jules sing one?”  George asked, moving in from his position of spectator to actually join the group.

            Jules hopped up from his seat.  “I’ll have you know!” He began, in mock outrage, “that I am a very talented drummer! I’ve even been recorded on many a famous and successful album!” 

            Zak laughed loudly. “Yeah, when you were 10!”

            Sitting down and picking up his guitar, George joined in.  “Actually, Jules was 11.”

            Sticking his nose high in the air, Julian posed very snottily.  “See?  I was 11!”  There was a hint of a ‘So there!’ in his tone.

            “While Zak here only works as a session musician,” George finished offhandedly, while plucking a few chords.

             In a moment, everything around him stopped.  The joking, the rough-housing, suddenly a seriousness had broken into the atmosphere that forced George to look up. 

            “My God, really?”  Julian asked, looking more stunned than anything.  George was abruptly reminded that his ‘nephews’ were adults, or at least near to it.  “That’s amazing!” There was a hint of awe in Julian’s voice now.

            Zak, for his part, had turned a distinctly bright shade of red and was trying to sink down behind the drum kit. “It’s no big deal…it’s just occasional, for pocket money and the like.  You know, to buy the stuff that the parents won’t.” 

            Julian didn’t say anything, as he made his way to the microphone. 

            George wasn’t sure if Julian knew that the one thing Zak’s parents wouldn’t buy was drugs. 

            Clearing this throat, George tried to break the ice that had formed around the room.  “So, I was thinking…maybe something by Elvis?” He suggested it cautiously. It was something safe and neutral.  After all, aside from a few of his songs sung for shits and giggles, suggesting anything by the Beatles was like lighting a match by a powder keg. It wasn’t likely to end well.

            Zak snorted.  “Fuck that, let’s play ‘the Who’.  Unless his Lordship doesn’t know anything by them,” he added, giving Julian a pointed look. 

            Rolling his eyes, Julian grabbed the microphone off its stand. “ ‘My Generation’, on three.”

            With a smirk, Zak started the beat, and George started playing along. 

            Right on cue, Julian started belting out the lyrics in all their stuttered glory.  George felt his breath catch.  He barely remembered to play at all, and what he did produce was haphazard.  Not that it mattered, Julian had so taken over that George and Zak could have been completely silent and it would have made no difference.

            On the one hand, it was strange to see.  Julian had always been such a quiet boy, so contained; but on the other hand, it was beautiful.  It was all the Lennon charisma on display in its full glory.  It was pure John, back before the break-up, before the drugs.  It was John from Liverpool, who wanted things with such passion that not going after them was unthinkable.  Julian sang like a man starving in the desert.  It was as wonderful as it was heart-breaking.

 

            Zak laughed while he played.  Julian was fucking brilliant.  It was like Zak had discovered a new Julian.  He wasn’t the insecure boy that Zak had become so familiar with over the past day, nor was it the fake one who pretended to be charming.  This was real.  Julian was confident, Julian was cheeky, and Julian was having a blast signing this song. 

           When he got to the line ‘I’m not trying to cause a big sensation’, Julian threw a pointed look in George’s direction.  Zak couldn’t restrain the laughter that came tumbling out.  It was quite impressive that he managed to keep the beat at all.

           Hearing him laughing, Julian turned and gave Zak a roguish grin – sending him a wink at the line “This is about my generation, baby.”

           The song ended with a flourish, while Julian took a very low, exaggerated bow. 

           From the door, someone cleared their throat. 

           “Um, Mr. Harrison?”  It was the shy blonde that George had been terrorizing earlier. 

           Zak gave her a quick once over.  She had gorgeous legs.  If Julian wasn’t staying with him, he might have even gone for it. 

           “Yes?” George asked, sounding a bit irritated at the interruption.

           She winced at his tone, but stepped closer anyway. “Um, you only booked the studio until 5….it’s now 10.  This wouldn’t really be a problem, except, well….we’ve got people here who want to use it and….”

           Looking at his watch in shock, George quickly laid the guitar back in its case.  “Wow, you’re right.  Where did the time go?”

           Zak looked at Julian quickly.  They hadn’t planned to stay nearly this long.  In fact, Zak had another party lined up for tonight.  “We were just having too much fun, clearly.”

           “Yeah, definitely,” Julian agreed, putting his microphone back. 

            Zak made his way around the drum kit.  “Look George, we’ve got to go.  We have this thing—”

            “The party tonight?”  George asked pleasantly, looking amused. 

            Zak was about to answer affirmatively, but was cut off by Julian.

            “I’m afraid we have no idea what you’re talking about,” Julian declared in mock innocence.

            Putting an arm around each of them, George led them out of the studio. “You know, boys, just because you think I’m square doesn’t make it true.  I still get invited to these things all the time.”

            Grinning, Julian gave him a quick hug.  “But you never go to them, and that’s what makes you square.”  He said it as though it were some kind of deep secret he was imparting.

            Zak wondered briefly at the fact that Julian was probably the most boring of the three of them, he was really in no position to be disparaging anyone.  Before he could say anything, or even think about it too long, Zak was busy dashing down the hall after Julian.




           George yelled after them, “And Happy Birthday, you cheeky fuck!” No one could mistake the affection in his tone.   

 

            "You know what I like about you?”  Zak slurred, throwing a friendly arm around Julian’s shoulder as they made their way towards the dart board.

            “What?”  Julian asked, his own head swimming in alcohol.  For a moment he questioned the wisdom of playing darts while barely able to walk straight, but then he couldn’t be bothered. 

            Zak toppled into him as someone walked a little too close on the other side. Jules wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him.

            “Because you just get it, you know?” He kept walking as though that explained everything.

             Julian blinked and struggled to keep up.  “Get what?”

            “It.  You know, _it_.”  He picked up the darts and made a show of aiming one of them. 

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Julian enunciated carefully, both because he hated to hear himself slur no matter how drunk he was, and because he was hoping that would prompt Zak to be a little clearer with his vague statements. 

            Turning quickly, Zak wrapped his arm around Julian’s neck and tugged him closer to whisper in his ear. “You’re like me.” He then released the headlock and went back to the game, carefully aiming, only to have the dart fly in the complete wrong direction. 

            That wasn’t any clearer at all.

 

            The night passed in weird flashes.  They went from the dart game to dancing.  Strobe lights and darkness resting on them like a blanket as they bounced and jumped around.  Neither had any trouble finding partners when the inclination struck, but most often they just danced as part of the mass of people who crowded onto the dance floor. 

            Another flash and Zak was bringing them drinks again. 

            Julian chugged it down without even tasting it, not even sure that he still had the ability to taste. 

            “That was mine, you lousy drunk,” Zak laughed, drinking from the one intended for Julian instead.

            “Mine now,” Julian answered shortly, before stealing the one out of Zak’s hand and chugging it as well.

            That was the last straw; Zak tackled Julian to the ground.  Laughing, they both landed hard on the concrete floor. That was going to bruise tomorrow.

            Another flash. They were outside and trying to make their way home. Julian had tried calling a taxi from the club but couldn’t get through.  In desperation, he suggested that they should phone Ringo and get a car sent.

            “No, no, we should take a carriage home,” Zak insisted in a sing song voice, as he swirled around from one side of the street to the other.  None of the usual antagonism about his father present, at least not for the moment. 

            Julian laughed so hard his stomach hurt from the force of it.  “We can’t take a carriage home, that’s ridiculous.”

            “No it’s not, my Dad did it once.  A drunken carriage ride through the streets of London! How about it?”  Zak collided with Julian.  Completely unfazed, he took Julian’s arm and continued down the street.

            Julian tried to remember what dignity felt like, but found he couldn’t.  “All right, just no shouting.”

            “Okay!” Zak shouted, and then tossed Julian a cheeky grin.




            “You fucker,” Julian laughed, but didn’t pull out of Zak’s hold.     

            Following the sounds of horse hooves on the path, Zak finally found them a carriage – though it was a small miracle at this time of night. 

            The driver looked as though he was about to refuse, until Zak offered him three times the fare and somehow managed to drop both their names casually into conversation. 

            Soon they were riding home with Zak singing at the top of his lungs. 

            “You know what’s a good song?”  Zak interrupted his own singing to ask. 

            Julian kept his arms firmly around Zak for fear that the other boy would swing a little too far and topple right out of the carriage. “Anything by The Who?” He asked condescendingly.

            “Octopus’ garden.”  Zak declared loudly, as though Julian hadn’t spoken at all.  “Don’t ever tell my dad, but I fucking loved that song when I was little, you know.”

            Julian smiled.  “Yeah, me too...it’s a good song.”

            “ _I’d like to be, under the sea,_ ”  He sang out loudly, sweeping his arms in wide circles as he sang. 

            “I believe this is your stop, boys,” The driver pulled the carriage to a stop, and spoke in a politely masked annoyed voice.  He obviously just wanted them gone. 

            “Thanks, sir,” Julian helped Zak out of the carriage and paid the man - Giving him a hefty tip for his trouble on top of everything else.

            As Julian helped Zak to the door, he was very thankful for the fact that he clearly had the presence of mind to stop drinking a lot earlier in the evening.  While he was still tipsy, he wasn’t ‘fall out of the carriage’ wasted like Zak was.

            “Okay, Zak, where are your keys?” He asked, trying to keep Zak’s attention on the task at hand. 

            “In my pockets,” he answered, absolutely mesmerized by the light fixture above the door.

            Julian reached out and grabbed Zak’s chin, turning his face to look at Julian.  “Can you get them out?”

            With a huff, Zak reached into his pocket and handed Julian the keys.  “There. Happy?”

            It took a while to open the door. Julian didn’t know which key was the right one (and Zak was being incredibly unhelpful in that regard), so he had to test each one. 

            It was when he finally got the lock to turn that something strange happened.

            In one fluid motion, Zak pushed Julian’s shoulder causing him to spin and then stepped forward pining him to the door. “Hi,” He said playfully.

            “Uh, Zak....what are you doing?” Julian asked uncomfortably, wrinkling his nose against the smell of Zak’s breath.

            “This,” he answered in the same almost childlike voice.  Then they were kissing. 

            Julian tried to push him away, but Zak had a strong hold and Julian had no leverage to speak of. 

            The kiss was long, it was wet and tasted like stale alcohol.  As horrible as it was, Julian could feel himself responding.  It had been so long since anyone had touched him, so long since anyone had been near him at all.

            Without even meaning to, Julian started kissing back.  He freed his hands enough to cup Zak’s face, one hand slid behind Zak’s neck and Julian’s thumb lightly stroked the skin just under Zak’s ear.

            Zak shivered, losing his grip on Julian’s shirt. 

            Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.  Zak pulled away as quickly as a scalded cat, and started throwing up in the shrubbery in front of the house.

            Julian just stared, not really sure what just happened, but the sounds of vomiting prompted him to action and he quickly wrapped his arms around Zak from behind, bundling him inside as soon as there was a break.

            It took another two hours before they fell asleep, most of which was spent on the floor in the bathroom – Zak curled up against Julian’s side until another burst of nausea sent him barrelling towards the toilet again, and Julian offering whatever comfort he could. 

            When Zak had stopped throwing up, and had managed to keep down some water.  Julian washed his face and tucked him into bed. 

            It was only after Zak was settled and there was nothing else left to do, that Julian deliberated over the events of the night.  All he could think at the end was a resounding ‘what the fuck?’

 

            Zak woke up to pain, but then, Zak always woke up to pain so it wasn’t that unusual.  He reached into his bedside table and blindly groped for the aspirin he kept there.  Dry swallowing three, he settled back down and waited for the room to stop spinning, 

            As the pounding in his head receded, Zak noticed a few things. For one, Julian’s bag was still in the corner of the room. That wasn’t right. Julian had bought a ticket yesterday for the morning train. He should be gone by now. For reasons that Zak had yet to puzzle out, that bag was filling him with terror.  Why the fuck was Jules still there?

            Wide awake now, Zak pushed himself into a seated position.  He groped through his faded memories trying to find why Jules would still be there, and why it was bothering Zak so much.

            With a gasp, Zak brought his fingers to his lips. “Oh fuck,” he gasped quietly into the stillness of the room. He felt his face turn red hot, and with a cringe he fell back onto the bed and buried his face in the pillow, pulling the blanket up and over his head.  Maybe he could just stay here until Jules left; Jules had to leave sometime, after all. It wasn’t like Jules actually lived here.

            This would have almost been a good idea, if his bladder wasn’t ready to burst.

            From his stronghold beneath the covers, Zak could hear the door open.  “Morning,” Julian called in a soft, almost parental voice.

            Focusing on his breathing, Zak took a deep breath, held it and then let it out, trying desperately to mimic sleep.

            “I know you’re awake, I heard you get up.” His voice held that same soothing tone.  Maybe this was how he got the kids up in the morning. 

            Zak kept his breathing steady.  Surely Jules must be bluffing.

            “And I also heard the loud bang your bed made when it hit the wall. Sounded like an exasperated flop if I ever heard one. Stella does those, too.” His voice was edging away from soothing and making its way towards his normal voice with a detour around amused. “You can’t hide under there forever, and I’ve got breakfast made.”

            Wrinkling his nose and screwing his eyes shut, Zak slowly lowered the blanket down half his face. Cautiously, he opened one eye and then shut it quickly again. Jules was still there.

            “Right,” Jules said, taking on an air of authority. “You’ve got five minutes to get to the breakfast table or I’m getting a bucket of water.”  There was no malice in the threat, it was just a statement. Then Jules closed the door and left him to his misery. Definitely how he got the kids up.

            Not seeing any other option, and since the bed was being highly unaccommodating in swallowing him whole, Zak got up.  He abandoned his dirty clothes from the night before and put on his pyjama bottoms. 

            With perhaps overdone caution, he slipped out of his room and scurried to the bathroom…only to find Julian standing right beside it.

            Zak cringed. “Hey, Jules,” he said, embarrassment putting a slight whine in his voice.

            Raising an eyebrow, Jules leaned casually against the wall – or tried to at least, the motion ended up looking forced and awkward.  “I’m going to have to go right after we eat.”

            Zak could feel the hope begin to well through him; he might be able to survive this after all. 

            Jules seemed to be waiting for some sort of sign to continue.  When none materialized, he cast his gaze towards the wall and carried on anyway. “So, I was thinking…maybe I could come back again next weekend?”

            Just like that, Jules had shrunk from the confident man who had no qualms digging through the cupboards and threatening to soak people with water in their own beds, to the small insecure little boy that, for whatever reason, made Zak’s heart melt just a little.

            “All right,” Zak was answering in a small voice before even considering the implications.  “Yeah, that’d be fine.” 

            “Cool.” They stood awkwardly for another beat.

 

            The train pulled up around the same time as Stella and Mary were getting out of school, so Julian swung around to pick them up on his way home.  It was the least he could do, considering it had forced Linda to take the day off work and watch Jamie so suddenly.

            Mary hopped into the front seat, letting her backpack fall to the floor at her feet.  “Have fun in London?” She asked politely, giving him a small smile as they pulled out of the car park.

            Stella was sitting quietly in the back seat, staring out the window.

            “Tons” Julian answered, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead of them.  “Saw Heather while I was in town.  She was looking good, I think she’s really enjoying her program.”

            Out of the rearview mirror, Julian could see that Stella had turned and was looking at them now.  Always excited to hear news about Heather, she would even deign to pay attention to Julian to get it. “Is she seeing anyone?”

            Julian paused, considering.  Heather hadn’t told him anything outright, but Zak had jokingly referred to some musician that Heather seemed quite fond of.  Nobody Julian had ever heard of though.  “Rumour has it that she’s dating a musician,” he said with a hint of confidentiality.

            “About damn time,” Stella said loudly. “Do you know who it is?”  She actually seemed almost happy to be talking to him, for once.

            Julian felt a small smile tug the corner of his lips upward. “No, but I’m sure if anyone can find out, it’s you.”

            Puffed up with pride, Stella let out a dazzling smile. “You know it!” She exclaimed happily. “What else did you do in London?”

            “Hmm” Julian tapped out a quick beat on the steering wheel as they stopped at a traffic light.  “I saw Uncle George, he was doing some recording there.  I spent quite a bit of time with Zak…Other than that, not much.”

            Stella scoffed.  “God Julian, you’re so boring!  Only you would go to London just to visit people. It’s London!  You should have gone to parties!”  Her tone was highly exasperated.

            Stepping in, in Julian’s defense, Mary answered. “Stella, you know Julian doesn’t like parties.  It was his birthday and he could spend it however he liked.”

            Crossing her arms, Stella looked out the window again, clearly giving up on any interesting news. “He’s so square he probably couldn’t have gotten into the parties anyway,” she muttered under her breath. 

            Julian snorted under his.

 

            The girls rushed the house, as soon as the car stopped, with Julian following behind at a slower pace.  When he walked through the door, Linda was waiting for him.

            “So, how was it?” She asked, almost shaking with excitement.

            Julian let his bag fall to the floor, joining the small pile that the girls had already made. “It was good,” he conceded graciously. “You were right, and I had a great time.” 

            Linda bounced up and down, throwing her arms around him in a quick hug.  “I knew it!  I knew you would have fun.”

            Clearing his throat, Julian hesitated.

            “What?”  Linda asked, clearly starting to get worried. 

            Taking a breath, Julian pressed on.  He wasn’t even sure why he was nervous.  “Nothing really, I just wanted to tell you that I’m going back next weekend.  If you don’t need me here, that is.” He looked around the house, feeling almost disappointed that it hadn’t fallen into chaos in his absence. 

            The excitement was back on Linda’s face. “I’m sure we’ll manage, I’m just so glad that you and Zak became friends. This is just so perfect, I love it!”

            “Yeah…me too,” He said softly. 

 

            The next time Julian went to London, he left on Friday night, almost as soon as Linda got home from work. 

            “Just remember, I can’t take all of Monday off again so you’ll actually have to catch the morning train to get back here in time,” she cautioned as he made his way out the door.

            “Promise,” he answered over his shoulder while giving James a big squeeze on his way out. “You’ll be good, right Kiddo?” Julian asked, setting the child back on his feet.

            “Always am,” James answered, beaming.

            Julian ruffled his hair. “Good man. I’ll be back on Monday.”

            When he arrived, Zak greeted him with a friendly hug, almost brotherly. They left the station, dropped Julian’s bag at the apartment and hit the clubs with abandon. If only Stella could see him now. 


End file.
